Chapter 3

When Dean opened his eyes the following morning, the clock was showing it was a few minutes past noon. The worst thing about sleeping in is, that no matter how long you slept, you'll always feel like you could sleep some more. Dean rolled himself off the bed only very reluctantly.

When he was done with the morning bathroom activities, there was already a breakfast waiting for him on the kitchen table and the same amount of money as yesterday. To his pleasant surprise he found everything he needed to prepare a home-made burger for dinner.

He spent the rest of his afternoon out in town again, but this time he didn't buy anything, except for ice cream and strawberries. He couldn't remember ever tasting anything better than that. He decided to buy some for Sam too. He wanted to win some favour with him.

He got home early, so he decided to explore the place a little further. He already knew his bedroom, bathroom and the kitchen/living room. He thought it was funny and maybe a little unfair, that Sam had a kitchen, that most of housewives would kill for, ceramic desk, big fridge, lots of useful shelves and everything, while he was at work all day and lived all by himself.

Dean had to stop his thinking there. By himself? How would Dean know?

Day 3 and I know absolutely nothing about the guy! He realized. Maybe it was a regular thing for Sam to invite a paid companion for a week into his house. Maybe he just broke up with his partner and didn't want to be alone. He might be planning to kill him on the end of the week for all Dean knew.

He made himself comfortable on the big, soft sofa in the other half of the room that served as living room. There were bookshelves full of books of all possible kinds and genres. Sam was a bookworm. There was a big screen too, so Dean turned it on and watched some meaningless show, while he was trying to figure out how to get to Sam at least a little. Hey, Dean was curious, okay?

But when Sam got home and they ate the burgers that Dean made for them, they were still silent, because Dean hadn't figured out anything yet. Dean took out a plate full of strawberries and put it in front of Sam.

"Try this, man! This is like the best thing I've ever eaten!"

Sam looked confused.

"Dude, they're just strawberries," he laughed softly, when he ate one to find out, what was so special about them.

Dean's face fell and he felt a little disappointed for no reason.

"Right, just strawberries...sorry..." Dean felt suddenly so small compared to Sam and it had nothing to do with Sam being a few inches taller than him.

You're a stupid idiot, Dean Smith! Strawberries! I bet this kid had already tried every single delicious thing there is!

"No," Sam bit his bottom lip. "I didn't mean-...they are delicious!"

"Don't bother, I should have known they're just plain fruit to you," Dean said a little too harshly. It wasn't even fair, Sam was nothing but nice to him. And Dean certainly wasn't in a position to be bitchy.

But he couldn't help it; it stung a little. He wasn't sure what was going on with him.

"Do you need me for anything else or am I free to go to take a shower now?" he asked him, keeping his voice purposely emotionless.

Sam flinched a little at his words and looked down on his plate, but shook his head.

So Dean escaped to the bathroom. He quickly removed and threw away all the bandages from yesterday and enjoyed the hot shower. The water never ran cold in this place.

As the water was hitting his body, he realized the stitches barely hurt at all. He finally felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for being such an ass to Sam, because frankly, he was having the best days of like the last ten years of his life, he didn't have to do anything for that and all thanks to Sam. Sam, who was left in the kitchen with empty dishes, looking so dejected it was sad, instead of raging and yelling at Dean as he had every right to.

When he was out and dressed in what he decided to be his sleeping t-shirt and shorts, he was contemplating the best way to apologize to Sam for being a jerk without any apparent reason.

There was a soft knock on the door of his bedroom.

"Hi," Sam whispered softly and stood in the door, as though he wasn't sure, if he could enter his own freaking guest room.

"I'm sorry...I guess," he sighed. "Not quite sure what I've done, but I didn't mean to upset you. Sorry."

This was getting bizarre. Dean was positive they both knew that Sam didn't have to apologize for anything, especially since none of it was his fault. Did Sam want Dean to be dominant and boss him around; was that what got him off? Cause if so, all he had to do was just ask for it, god dammit! Or was this some kind of a game? Because if so, then it would be very nice of Sam to explain the rules.

Dean sighed.

"I'm not upset, I didn't mean anything by that, okay? Don't listen to old bitter me," he feigned a smile, but the truth was; he was getting tired of this. Not the comfort and illusion of freedom that Sam was offering, God knows he could have that forever, but he was tired of trying to figure Sam and his wishes out. If Sam wanted anything from him, he had to ask for it.

"I was...wondering...if you still needed help with taking care of your stitches," Sam asked ever so quietly and something grew heavy in Dean's chest, when he noticed, that Sam isn't just shy anymore, that he's scared now. Scared of rejection. Or maybe even expecting it.

"Sure, whatever," Dean shrugged and took his shirt off. He regretted the choice of his words and the tone of his voice immediately, when he saw the crestfallen look on Sam's face. He looked like a sad kicked puppy and Dean wanted that look to go away from Sam's face, now!

"I mean, it would be nice," he said quickly, before Sam could leave, smiled wholeheartedly and obediently lay down on his bed. Maybe Sam had some kind of Mother Theresa complex and bought him, because of his bruises, because he needed to take care of someone. Dean was fine with that.

The creaming and bandaging passed the same as yesterday. Sam acknowledged with a hint of satisfaction, that Dean was almost healed now. When he rolled Dean over to bandage his front and smiled down at his work, it struck Dean how handsome Sam was. The tip of his tongue was sticking out of his soft pink lips, as he concentrated on the work. His brows were slightly creased and his eyes reflected the light, as though there were little fires in them.

Dean had decided to make a move. Maybe that was what he was here for? Maybe Sam suffered from some sex anxiety and Dean was hired to help him get over it? Or maybe Dean just used that as an excuse to finally touch him. This was all very new to him, to be in a bedroom with a handsome stranger and not knowing if they were going to have sex or not, but wanting to.

So when Sam was done carefully creaming and bandaging him, Dean slowly sat up and softly touched the back of Sam's neck. Sam's breath hitched, but he didn't move away. Instead, he gazed intensely into Dean's eyes. His hazel eyes were sparkling with anticipation in a way that was almost mesmerizing.

Dean smirked. Sam was into him after all. He was just waiting for him to do the first move. Strange, but okay, let it be his way.

Dean leaned in and brushed his lips against Sam's neck. He felt the soft hair on Sam's neck stand up and smiled to himself. He planted an open-mouthed kiss there and then started sucking on it, drawing a soft "Oh..." out of Sam.

Whatever it was, that held Sam back, it stopped working, when Dean moved down to his collarbone and nibbled on it gently. Some buttons are the same with all men.

Sam put his hands on Dean's shoulders, gripping it tightly, when Dean moved even lower to suck and tease Sam's nipples. He practically collapsed into Dean's lap, pushing him down and straddling him. He leaned down to kiss Dean's mouth, but stopped himself right in time.

"Ah, sorry, no mouth," he grinned sheepishly.

As he shifted his weight, he accidentally put too much pressure on one of Dean's bandaged wounds and he hissed in pain.

"Oh, crap, I'm so so-"

"Shh," Dean hushed him with a finger gently placed on his lips. "You're paying for it, it's going to be any way you want it," he smiled sensually and reached for Sam to drag him down, but Sam suddenly stopped moving.

"P-paying for it...right..." he gave Dean such pained look all of a sudden, that he almost hugged him.

But before he could do anything, Sam got up quickly and ran away.

Dean had no idea, what just happened. Sam was paying for it, wasn't he? Maybe Dean read him wrong, maybe he really was a virgin, who didn't have any luck with 'real' people, so he had to buy Dean. And maybe he just wanted it to feel real.

And you just screwed up big time, Dean berated himself internally.

He went after Sam, but he wasn't in the kitchen or anywhere he looked. The house wasn't that big, so it was obvious, that Sam would be behind the last closed door – his bedroom as Dean found out this morning.

"Sam?" Dean knocked.

He heard a muffed sound, it sounded a lot like someone was trying to hide a sob. Dean decided to invade Sam's privacy and hoped he wasn't breaking some of Sam's rules. Not like Sam ever gave him any.

Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, his face was carefully blank, when he looked at Dean, but Dean didn't miss the way he wiped his eyes quickly or that his eyes were a little redder, than they should be.

"Sam..." Dean approached him carefully, "you seem so upset around me lately, did I do anything wrong?"

It wasn't just that Dean was scared he messed up too much this time and his week would end early. That was a big part of the reason, he was here with Sam, but there was a genuine concern, too. Dean himself was surprised that he was even capable of such emotion.

Sam just shook his head.

"'S okay," he said. His voice was almost not giving anything away, but Dean still heard the slight tremble.
"I'm just being oversensitive. My brother always said I was supposed to be born a girl," Sam said with a mirthless chuckle.

"Wanna talk to me about it?" Now that was also genuine concern. He honestly didn't know when did he start caring for this kid, but he had to admit he did now. It was kind of scary, if Dean should be honest, but then, he was sure everyone, who ever met Sam, felt that way about him.

"Not what you're paid for," Sam looked down at his hands.

"No, that one's free," Dean smiled and sat next to Sam on the bed.

"I-I just," Sam stuttered. "I wanted you to be out of there, you know? At least for some time. To catch a break, to have some time for yourself. To heal. But somehow, I'm failing to make you feel it's real. You still expect me to use you and I can't really blame you. I sure as hell couldn't keep my hands off you a while back, but that's not what this is about. S-sorry," he choked out and a few tears were running down his cheeks.

"You really care about me," Dean whispered and it wasn't a question. It was a realisation and it hit him hard and left him completely thunderstruck. This guy doesn't even know him! He couldn't know anything and yet he wanted to give him this.

Dean gently touched Sam's face to wipe the tears away.

"W-why?" he said, staring deep into Sam's eyes, searching for the answer.

"I guess it's true what they say; save someone's life and you're responsible for it forever," Sam laughed bitterly.

If anything, that confused Dean even more.

"What?"

"I was there, you know? The night you were mugged. I drove by and saw the guys run off, but I stopped, when I saw you. You were beaten to death, man; I was so scared you'd die on me! I brought you to the hospital and even stuck around to see if you were going to be okay," Sam wasn't crying anymore, but he was looking at his hands in his lap.

"S-Sam, I-"Dean didn't know what to say. There were no words for the mix of all kinds of emotions that were battling for dominance inside of him.

"I'm sorry I never visited you," Sam continued. He seemed determined to reveal the story all at once. "I wanted to, but the first day you were out of it and when you woke up...I mean, you just laid there and no one came to visit you, even though you made one call-yeah, I was watching you closely, sorry-and you seemed so lonely! And I-...I simply got scared. I mean, what would I even tell you? Why would you want to talk to me? And then I got called to work, an emergency.

"I got back two days later, but you were already gone. I wanted to pay for the hospital, 'cause I thought that maybe the robbers took all your money, but I found out it was already paid for. And I had enough money to convince the hospital to tell me who paid for it. And that's how I knew where to find you. Wow, I'm such a pathetic little stalker, aren't I? Whoa, are you okay?!"

Sam almost jumped, when he dared to look back at Dean and saw him with opened mouth and tears falling from his eyes. No one has ever shown so much care for him as this guy. Not ever since his dad died and maybe longer. This guy gave a damn about Dean's well being. He cared. And it woke up the emotions inside Dean that he thought he wasn't able to feel anymore. And now he didn't know what to do with them and his eyes just started to cry.

"Y-yeah, I-I'm great!" he wiped away the tears quickly and offered Sam a hand. "Let's start this over. My name's Dean," he smiled.

Sam smiled back.

"Nice to meet you, Dean. Now that's a cool name. Much better than Antonio," he made a face that made Dean laugh.

And the next thing he knew, he was grabbing Sam's head and kissing his lips.

"Hey!" Sam whispered, when they finally broke off. "Don't give me any of the pity- or grateful-sex shit, please."

"Okay," Dean whispered back. "I won't."

And then he kissed him again.

They slept in one bed that night. They didn't have sex, much to Dean's surprise; Sam just wanted to cuddle. Sam seemed to fall asleep almost immediately, but Dean was lying awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to make some sense from the mess in his head.

Something about the guy spread out next to him was making Dean lose his mind. He had already broken three of the most important rules! Don't kiss them on the mouth, don't give them your real name and do not fall in love with them. Okay, so he wasn't in love, but he was in something and that was bad enough.

He had just known the kid for three days and he already felt connected to him. But what was blowing his mind off the most was that he, Sam freaking Wesson himself, cared about him too. He thought things like that only happened in movies. Maybe that was it; maybe this was some kind of new reality show. Or maybe Dean was dreaming, because it sure as hell didn't feel real.

He was lying there, running fingers through Sam's soft hair, listening to his evened breathing and trying to rationalize the emotional state he was in. He honestly felt like crying again and what the hell, Dean Smith doesn't cry.

Dean felt a cold pinch in the area of his stomach, when he remembered, that he only had four days left with this amazingly caring man and then he was probably back to streets again. He had to stop feeling all this chick-flick crazy shit, before he got himself hurt. Despite that decision, he felt a tear slipping out of his eye. And then a soft pad of a finger wiping it away.

"Can't sleep?" Sam whispered and smiled, when Dean looked at him.

"Nah, too much on my mind," Dean sighed honestly.

"Come here," Sam pulled Dean closer, so that Dean was snuggled under his chin.

Even though he told himself not to get involved any further just minutes ago, Dean still wrapped his arms around Sam's body.

"It's okay," Sam whispered, rubbing circles on Dean's back." Everything's okay. I'm going to take care of you."

And with that, he fell asleep again, not noticing the wet stain on his pyjamas, right where Dean's face was.